


Dissolution

by StAnni



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Relationship, Reconciliation fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: The waitress crosses to them and Bruce orders a glass of wine.  When asked if she would like to order anything Selina doesn’t respond, but keeps her gaze coolly on Bruce.  “The wine is fine, thank you.” he says to the waitress who then disappears.Selina waits for him and he steels himself before he continues “I know you are angry…” And she gives a short laugh, a clear bell, before she shakes her head. “Bad start, Bruce.”





	Dissolution

Selina waits at a table for two and Bruce watches her fingers curl and curl absently around the stem of the empty wineglass before he walks over. She is wearing the dress that her mother sent for her twenty first birth, the one with the lace down the back – the one that she pretended to hate at first but later took out, when she thought he was sleep, to trace the intricate black lace against her skin.  
When he approaches the table her eyes fall on him, green and wide – serious and then she looks away, sits back and sighs. He knew what he was walking into so he proceeds.

“You’re not serious.” She says, witheringly, as he pulls out the chair and sits down in front of her. “Pretending to be a gun runner just to set up a meet. Stalker move, Bruce.” He doesn’t say anything at first, but looks at her, direct and honest. “I came to apologize.”  
To that she smirks, quietly and with a soft shake of her head. She almost looks nineteen again. She almost looks like the same young woman who believed him, believed in him. But five years of anger have changed them both, they are both sleeker, harder around the edges – wary. “What a rarity.” She says plainly – and there is no lie there. 

The waitress crosses to them and Bruce orders a glass of wine. When asked if she would like to order anything Selina doesn’t respond, but keeps her gaze coolly on Bruce. “The wine is fine, thank you.” he says to the waitress who then disappears.  
Selina waits for him and he steels himself before he continues “I know you are angry…” And she gives a short laugh, a clear bell, before she shakes her head. “Bad start, Bruce.”

He presses on, because he needs to, and even though her eyes on him, utterly aloof and guarded, is worse than the regret and confusion of the months before, he needs to unburden his heart. “I don’t know what happened…what turned…but when you told me about the bridge…”

Selina raises her eyebrows “This is beginning to sound like an excuse Bruce, not an apology.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, and changing his tact, returns her hard look “This isn’t easy Selina, and it is not as if I am solely at fault.”  
Selina visibly flinches at that and leans forward, her voice even and dangerous “So this isn’t an apology at all.” Bruce is relieved for any form of engagement from her, which is not utterly apathetic and he quietly, steadily responds “Selina, I was wrong for the way that I reacted, and I regret what I said to you, and how we left things. I never, ever thought it would get to that point – but we are not on the same side.”

Selina grips the side of the table in frustration and the wine bottle, quietly placed on the table by the waitress, moves slightly. “What is it with you and sides? Why is everything so black and white with you?”   
Bruce can’t answer her because they are simply at odds when it comes to the nuances of morality. Bruce is not able to see or even consider the manner in which Selina seems to blur the lines between right and wrong when it suits her. It was and is always the one thing that would have and has come between them, even if she doesn’t see it that way. “I didn’t come here to argue” he offers tersely, and it is ridiculous because “We’re already arguing.” She finishes his thought.   
.  
He can see how upset she is, despite her trying to keep her composure. He feels a pang of regret – it is not what he intended to happen tonight. “So let me hear it, Bruce” she says, upset and wavering now “you got me here, let me hear your grand apology turn into a veiled threat as it always does.”

It’s not particularly fair but nothing is ever fair between them. “Usually those come from you, Selina.” Bruce says, because he has to, because it is the truth – he may lose his temper and let loose a wave of insults he regrets the moment he says them, but he has never, ever threatened her – her go-to move in retaliation.

A moment of uneasy quiet settles over them – it is scarily familiar – the calm before the storm and Selina, her eyes silently moving from Bruce to the door, shakes her head – tiredly “What is the end-game here, Bruce?” She asks finally. “You apologize, and then what? Say I forgive you? Say I can forget everything you said. Where does it take us?” 

Bruce swallows because the thought of her returning to him is something that he doesn’t dare to think of. As complicated and thorny such a gain would be, it would be just that – a gain, it would give him back his heart and breath. Thinking about it realistically means reaching through the flames, the cut glass, the hurt and rebuilding on the other side – which is almost an impossibility. “Selina, I love you. You know that.” It is meek and she can feel it, her eyes crinkling with disappointment – another expression she kept from her youth – “Love was never the issue, Bruce. Love?” She all but spits the word “We’ve never been more different than we are now, so where are we after sorries and love, Bruce? Nothing has changed.”

Nothing has changed, not since the fight – nothing on the outside, nothing of importance, nothing that has an actual effect on anything else. Selina is still running weapons into Gotham, standing behind a resolute insistence that the people of the Narrows need to protect themselves. Bruce is still out there every night, trying to stop the mayhem bred by thinking like Selina’s. 

So it is time for the hard truths. “If you stop, then I’ll stop.”

After the wounds that they have inflicted on each other, after the tears and shoving, pulling and pushing each other to their respective views – after everything – the only way it could ever be different between them is for them both to be different. 

She doesn’t say anything and her eyes are unreadable – a green that is warm but dark, untrusting. “Selina, if you stop. I will stop” He repeats. “We can leave, go anywhere you want to go. We can be together.” At that he can see, with a rush of relief that constricts around his heart, that her eyes soften somewhat. She still can see them together – their future is not just dust.   
But it lasts for only a second, and her tone is distant as her eyes focus on his, coldly - calculating “So it’s more of an ultimatum.” 

He breathes out, his own frustration breaking now. “You think me asking you, to consider a reasonable option, where we can have a real chance, is an ultimatum, Selina?”   
Her eyes turn icy, as expected “I’ve heard worse from you.” 

The ebb and flow of their exchange is teetering towards a clash and he can feel it, he knows she can feel it too and neither of them can stop it. “Bruce, if you didn’t have your money keeping the GCPD in your pocket” he narrows his eyes at her insinuation “Do you really think you’d be able to throw your weight around, golden boy?”   
His hand on the table is close enough to hers to catch it in anger and grip it against her pulling away. “Does what we have mean nothing to you?” he breathes, exasperated “What do you want me to say, I’ll say it, I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear…”  
And not wanting to allow the entire table to tumble over with their subdued jerk and pull, he lets go. Her eyes are lightning “The thing is Bruce, you won’t stop. What are you going to stop? You’re still going to just do whatever you want just without a fucking cape. I don’t have that luxury. So, no. Your offer is not accepted.” 

They are quiet, each taking a moment in their ever circling combat that they once foolishly mistook for a relationship. 

Selina gets up from the table abruptly, still affronted, and the wine bottle sways dangerously before Bruce stops it, absently, with his hand, not looking at her.

“Good night, Bruce.” He hears her say coldly as she heads out of the restaurant.


End file.
